eenslaved:

When Marissa arrived at the professor’s home, she saw he had chosen the day’s outfit for her and left it in the entranceway. Once Marissa stripped and folded her clothes away, she was Missy. Missy put on her work clothes: black heels, stockings and a garter, a crisp white blouse that she was allowed to button only to under her breasts. This way her professor could see her nipples through the blouse, or sometimes, they would fall through the open front entirely. Thinking of how her professor liked to grab her by her breasts, she couldn’t help herself; she caressed her breasts for a moment, imagining his mouth and tongue and teeth on them, how he liked to tie them up and hurt them in a way that turned her into a wet mess. 

In the study, the professor inspected her, nodded his satisfaction, and indicated that Missy should sit on his lap. She perched her sore bottom on his hard thigh, wincing as she sat. Yesterday, the professor had found four typos in the manuscript draft she had typed up for him. She ended up splayed out flat on his desk, calves tied to thighs, forearms tied to her upper arms, her nose an inch away from the offending errors, crushing her clamped nipples onto the hard surface and screaming into her gag while he spanked her with a ruler.

Then he took the end of her tie, which doubled as a leash, and strode to the bathroom as she crawled after him on elbows and knees. In the bathroom the professor inserted something in her pussy, warning her to get it nice and wet and not to drop it before he returned. That wasn’t a problem. She was humiliated to discover she was sopping at this treatment, and she had to clench her inner muscles hard so it didn’t slip out.

When the professor returned, he held his hand under her pussy and ordered her to let it go. Bowing her head, she saw between her legs that it was a black nozzle. Her professor plugged her ass with the lubricated nozzle and informed her she was getting a punishment enema. He unclamped her nipples as he started the enema with an ominous click. As she crouched on all fours on the tiled floor, he knelt beside her, petting her punished bottom with a soothing hand, kneading her breasts that hung down below her, and plucked teasingly at her pebbled nipples, murmuring quietly to her. Things like,

“Your nipples seem to be getting longer, Missy. I like long, fat nipples on my sluts. Makes it easier to clamp them, doesn’t it? Almost as if your tits are begging to be clipped….or even pierced. If I pierced them, I would have you wear little rings with a small dog tag through each one, so that everyone would know whose property you are. Would you like that, Missy? My good girl is moaning. I can’t tell what that means, Missy. I do so love the noises you make around a ball gag, so incomprehensible, like a mute animal. Your beautiful lips pursed, dribbling down your chin. Here, let me tidy you a little. I can clean this hole, but I can’t stop your other hole from drooling, can I? Good, good Missy. Oh, you do so like my finger diddling down there, don’t you? No coming for you, Missy, not during your punishment enema. Can you feel the liquid sloshing around in your belly? Let me feel it swelling up. Soon it will be rounder and bigger than your tits, Missy, as if you were pregnant. Good girl, Missy. Now, you will take eight strokes of the paddle, two for each mistake, and that will be the end of it.”

Missy sobbed and shrieked and begged from behind the gag, but her professor was strict and consistent with his discipline. Mistakes resulted in punishment, that was his way. Each blow landed solidly against her ass, causing her breasts to sway and the liquid inside of her to slosh around even more violently. When she began cramping painfully, he stopped the enema and made her hold it as he pinched her breasts, the tips especially. Her head was hanging down, and she could see her tears and salvia pooled on the tile…but from between her legs, she could also see the slick trails of wetness sliding down the insides of her thighs. The professor had rubbed her breasts and stomach for what felt like forever before he let her cleanse herself. 

Sitting on her professor’s lap this morning, her hand fluttered to her stomach as she recalled the cramping. The professor smiled and petted her gently there. “You will be a good girl for me today, won’t you, Missy? No more carelessness?”

“No, Sir,” she said, burying her face in his chest. 

“Good girl,” he said approvingly.

A little while later, the professor placed a typewriter on a low coffee table only two feet or so off the ground. 

“We will be practicing your typing skills and dictation today. I will dictate, and you will type. I will punish you for your mistakes, and I will reward you as an incentive.”

Missy bent obligingly over the typewriter. Her professor used the dreaded ruler to tap the insides of her knees, and she eased her stance to shoulder-width apart. He presented Missy with a small butt plug to lick. She caressed it with her tongue, made it wet, and he pushed it into her bottom hole.

“That’s my good girl. Now, every mistake will earn you two spanks, as you know. But every correctly typed sentence will earn you a squeeze.” He gave a half-squeeze to the bulb end of the plug. Missy squeaked as it swelled just a little inside her ass. “When the plug is fully inflated, I will start the vibrator. How long and how high a setting it runs at is up to you. Are you ready to begin?”

Oh god. She shuddered. “Yes, Sir.”

“Very well: ‘A fuck toy must always be kept wet in all holes, and all holes must be open.’”